"I hope you are not sick, Washburn," I said, in commiserating tones.
"Not at all. I slept about four hours last night, and have been at the wheel of the boat ten hours on a stretch. That's all that ails me; and I shall be as good as new when I have had a nap."
"Have you had anything to eat to-day?" I asked, thinking the crew of the Wetumpka had been on duty so that they had not had time to get any meals.
"Plenty to eat. I laid in a stock of cold ham, chickens, and coffee for the trip."
"You and those who came up with you had better go on board of the Sylvania and turn in, while the rest of us transfer the baggage and stores to this boat," I added.
I called Moses, and asked him to take charge of the engine of the river boat, and sent the three hands from her to their bunks. The curiosity of the passengers and crew of the Sylvania was equal to my own. The party from the cabin rushed on board of the Wetumpka as soon as they found she was alongside, and we all went into an examination of her. She was a "twin boat:" that is, she had two hulls, like a "catamaran." They were flat-bottomed, so as to draw but little water. On these two hulls were laid a platform, which came to a point at the bow, and projected some distance forward of the stems of the two boats. On the main deck, no one would suspect that she was composed of two boats.
The paddle-wheel was between the two hulls, and near the stern of the craft. The engine was on deck, and the upper part of the paddle-wheel was boxed up above the main deck. She had a broad opening on each side of her lower deck, through which she could receive her wood and freight. Forward of these doors were the quarters for the crew on one side, and the kitchen and ice-house on the other.
Above the main deck was the saloon deck, with the pilot-house at the forward end of it. In front of this was a platform on which the passengers could sit, the pilot looking out over their heads. In the saloon were eight state-rooms on a side, which were small, but very comfortably fitted up. At the stern was a pantry and a little smoking-room. The saloon was neatly furnished, and I thought our passengers could be very comfortable on board of the Wetumpka for a couple of weeks. The steward and his force were busy getting ready for dinner; but I set the deck-hands to moving the baggage of the passengers at once.
After dinner the stores were removed on board of the river steamer, and by two in the afternoon we were ready to start up the Ocklawaha, which was to be the first of the two trips. We towed the Sylvania out into deep water, anchored her, and left her in charge of Ben Bowman and Dyer Perkins, for one engineer and one fireman were sufficient for the trip: Cornwood took the wheel, and we ran into the Ocklawaha. In a few hours we were in the woods, the trees of which were loaded with trailing moss, which, however, was no new thing to us, as we had seen it in Savannah, and all the way up the St. Johns. In places the shores were submerged, but the channel of the river was clearly defined by the shrubs and masses of vines, many of them covered with flowers of various colors. The water was very clear, and not a breath of air ruffled its surface. Everything above it was reflected as in a mirror, and the young ladies were in ecstasies at the beauty of the forest, the vines, and the water.
Occasionally the river widened out into a broad pool, with sandy shores. In one of these we encountered a raft of lumber, on its way to Jacksonville. The men on it were wiry, hatchet-faced fellows, good-natured and easy-going. Just before sunset we came to Silver Spring Run, into which the pilot turned the boat. If the water had been clear before, it was perfectly transparent in this run, or stream flowing from the spring. We could see the fish in the water, sixty feet down. After dark we moored to a wharf for the night.